


Dragon Age Origins AU: Cousland and Mahariel

by EllieLavellan



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening, Dragon Age: Origins - Witch Hunt
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, first au ever, i dont know how to do this, im so new right now, long fic, luv it, maybe smut?, rare posting up because college, super long fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8104153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllieLavellan/pseuds/EllieLavellan
Summary: Events of Dragon Age Origins, except here's the twist: What if Duncan went to Highever first, and got Female Cousland, and on their way to Ostagar, found an unconscious Female Mahariel?Well, this is that, with a few more twists of my own to make it all flow together!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hillo there! This'll be my first work on here, so we'll see how it goes!

Teyrna Eleanor Cousland tugged at her daughter’s dirty dress hem.

“What is this?” she asked sternly. Elissa chewed at her bottom lip. 

“I went outside?” 

“In the dress I specifically got for you from Orlais?” 

Elissa paused, avoiding her mother’s raptor gaze. 

“Yes.” 

Her mother sighed, exasperated. 

“Sometimes, I wonder why I even try to get you to act like a lady.” Mother pinched the bridge of her nose and she straightened to her full height. Elissa pursed her lips, biting back a sarcastic retort. Her mother continued.

“Rendon Howe is coming this afternoon, to accompany your father and Fergus to Ostagar, as I know you’re well aware.” Mother crossed her arms across her chest, “If any of his sons come along, I expect you to behave properly.”

Elissa smiled sweetly, “Of course, Mum,” Eleanor raised her eyebrow suspiciously. Memories of wrestling in the mud with Howe’s sons brought a mischievous sparkle to her blue eyes. 

She had won.

The teryna gently patted Elissa on the arm, leading her to the great hall. Quiet conversation echoed in the stone halls. 

“Sounds like you father is in there with Howe,” Mother smiled at Elissa and sent her through the door, as she herself turned to where the parlor was. 

“-my forces will be late, many apologies,” the low drawl that was Rendon Howe reverberated off the stone. 

“No worries, my friend, they can easily catch up,” Bryce Cousland chuckled, loosely patting Howe on the shoulder. The teryn spotted his daughter walking up. 

“Ah, morning pup,” he smiled broadly. Elissa smiled widely back, and curtsied to Howe as Bryce reintroduced them. Howe’s face was drawn, and wrinkled.  _ He frowns far too much.  _

“Are any of you sons here, arl?” Elissa asked, clasping her hands behind her back. Her father chuckled. Arl Howe gave her a minimal smile.

“I’m afraid not. Nathaniel is schooling and Thomas is watching Amaranthine in my absence.” Elissa gave a small ‘ah’ in response. 

“Disappointed, pup?” The teryn teased. She nudged his shoulder with her own, feeling blood rush to her cheeks. Bryce’s attention was suddenly switched as another guest entered the great hall. Elissa tucked her dark hair behind her ear as she observed the new arrival. 

He was an older man, his black beard speckled with grey, a few streaks from his temples growing into his hair. His skin was darker, so she assumed he was from either Antiva or Rivain. His armor clinked as he approached. He looked like a man who had seen far too much bloodshed for one lifetime. 

“Welcome, Duncan,” Her father shook hands with the man. He introduced Duncan as a Grey Warden to Howe and Elissa. His stern face suddenly made sense. 

“You didn’t tell me that there was going to be a Grey Warden here, Bryce,” Howe said, looking somewhat worried. Elissa was curious for reason.

“He’s a surprise guest, one that we are too happy to accommodate. He’s looking for recruits for the war effort.” 

“I see.” 

Bryce turned to Elissa, his smile faded a little.

“Pup, we’ve got some business to attend to, and-”

Elissa cut him off, “It’s alright Father, I’ll go find Pickles and spar with Sir Gilmore in the yard.” She curtsied again to the arl, her father and the Grey Warden. Turning on her heel, Elissa did her best not to strut out. Mother was always scolding her when she caught her doing it. 

 

 

Lyna tugged on her boots, muttering under her breath that made a faint mist in front of her mouth that tickled her stuffed nose. Her aravel needed repairs before winter set in. Sniffing as she wiped her nose on her sleeve, she stepped out into the crisp early morning air, frosted dew clinging to the blades of grass. 

Spotting Tamlen’s aravel, Lyna crept up to it silently. She slid inside, unnoticed. The elf was still asleep, the lazy ass. She sat on the edge of his cot and slowly peeled the sheets off him. His eyes instantly opened, and his gaze went directly to her. 

Before Lyna could get out of range, he pulled her in, and rolled on top of her in one swift movement, leaving her pinned beneath him. The sound escaping from her lips wasn’t a yell, more of a squeak. 

“ _ Andaran atish’an, lethallan _ ,” he growled, burying his face in the curve of her neck. Lyna fluidly ran her fingers through his blond hair. A pleasant warmth filling her stomach as he trailed kisses up to her pointed ears.  

“ _ Aneth ara, emma lath _ ,” she whispered, stifling a shudder that crawled up her spine as Tamlen planted a kiss on her earlobe. 

Light began to fill the aravel. A small knock on the wood that was the frame was their only forewarning. Another elf entered the aravel, holding a small lantern. 

“You two ‘re going at it pretty early,” Tamlen propped himself up on his elbow, giving Lyna a view of the intruder. 

“Care to join, Fenarel?” Tamlen teased, “I can think of a few techniques that-” 

“No thanks,” he cut the joker off, his smile the only betrayal of his stern voice, “Keeper wants Mahariel to assist Merrill today, and for you to go hunt for dinner as soon as you’ve eaten.” Lyna sighed, and sat up to face Fenarel. 

“ _Ir abelas_ , Fen,” she giggled at Tamlen’s mock scowl.

“ _Tel’abelas_!” he countered, pulling Lyna onto his lap. Fenarel sighed, muttering in Elven as he left. 

“We may have scarred poor Fen,” she said, gasping for breath between his smothering kisses. 

“Oh boo hoo,” Tamlen finally letting his grip on her slacken, allowing her to get free, “Not like he hasn’t seen it before.” Lyna barked a laugh and stood. Tugging a leather thong from her pockets, she pulled her long blonde hair up into a messy bun. A few strands had escaped, but she didn’t much care. She watched as Tamlen got dressed, admiring him. He strapped his bow to his broad back and shooed her out of his aravel. 

The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the shades of purple and pink were breathtaking through the tall pines. Lyna jogged to the only fire that was lit in the camp, Tamlen in tow. 

“Finished are we?” Fenarel handed Lyna a bowl of beans and rice. Other hunters were stooped over their meals, eager for the day’s hunt. Lyna ignored the question with a smile.

“I wish I was hunting with you guys,” Tamlen sat on her opposite side, “Keeper seems determined to cage me in camp.” 

“After that last hunting incident? I think not,” Tamlen prodded. She shoved him back with her shoulder. Lyna had come across some shemlen in the forest and had injured one, compromising any peace with the village they were camped near. 

“Shem deserved it,” she grumping, stuffing her mouth, speaking around her food, “He called me a knife-ear,” Fenarel clicked his tongue in disgust.

“Did your manners run away with the rest of your sense?” Fen then laughed at the dirty look that earned him. 

Soon after that, Merrill joined the rambunctious trio. 

“Good morning everyone,” she said sweetly, nodding her head as she accepted her bowl. Most of the hunters answered in kind to the First. 

“ Anything super invigorating we’re doing today, Merrill?” Lyna asked, scraping the bottom of her bowl to get the last remains of her breakfast. 

Merrill stilled as she thought. Finally replying, “Keeper said she spotted some ruins to the east, but she doesn’t know if they’re Elvhen.”

“So we’re going to see if they are,” Lyna finished.  _ Utterly boring.   _

She stretched as she stood, waiting for Merrill to eat the rest of her food. Tamlen, Fenarel, and the others were setting out for the day. Catching Tamlen’s arm as he walked past, she planted a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

“Hunt well,” Lyna said, as Tamlen returned the peck to her temple. 

“Don’t I always?” he replied, cockily. She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly as he chuckled and left. The exchange seemed to have completely gone over Merrill’s head as they headed for her aravel. Merrill strapped on some First armor, and pulled her staff from under her cot. 

“Ready?” Lyna asked, checking her own armaments. 

“As I’ll ever be,” Merrill pursed her lips, throwing the strap of a satchel around her shoulder. 

 

 

Elissa wiped the sweat from her brow as she removed her helmet. Though her hair was pulled back, it still seemed to find it way into her face. Ser Gilmore panted as he took a swig from a canteen. 

“Getting better at dodging my assaults,” he said between each gulp. He passed the water to Elissa, who greedily drank. 

“You know I prefer speed to brute strength,” she dried her mouth with a swipe from her wrist. Gilmore nodded. 

“I’m just happy Pickles didn’t join the spar, I would have been done for,” he smiled at the Mabari hound, who sat contently under a tree. A small bark was how the dog responded as she trotted up to her master. Elissa gently rubbed and scratched Pickles behind the ears. 

“Who’s a good killing machine?” she doted, pursing her lips as the mabari’s rump wiggled with delight. The knight laughed, placing both his hands on his hips. 

“My grandfather always said that the mabari are clever enough to talk, but wise enough not to.” 

“He’s got that right,” Elissa sat down in the dirt next to Pickles, “Though it does make me wonder. She’s always getting into the pantry when Nan tells her not to, and she still does it!” The mabari barked happily, her stump tail wagging vigorously. Pickles' ears suddenly perked up, and they heard someone approach. 

It was Duncan. Elissa went to stand, but he waved her down, a small smile parting his lips. 

“Afternoon, Grey Warden,” Ser Gilmore saluted the older man. 

“There is no need to salute me, ser knight,” Duncan chuckled, “I was merely watching as you sparred with Miss Cousland,” Elissa’s eyebrows shot up.

“Any tips on our spar?” she inquired, sincere curiosity filled her as the veteran sat down on a nearby chair. 

“No. I only really noticed that you prefer to dual wield than to a shield, or bow.” Duncan leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, seemingly to be truly interested in her reply. Elissa draped her arm around her hound. 

“I like to be quick and aggressive. I know that two swords doesn’t provide much defense,” she then shrugged, “But it just seems to fit me better than a shield.” Duncan nodded. 

“I too, prefer dual daggers,” he remarked, “Mind if I test your skills?” Elissa stood excitedly. 

“Of course!” she chimed. Duncan chuckled again.

“Not one for hiding yourself, are you?” The Grey Warden said. Gilmore barked a laugh. Elissa shot him a look that only increased his mirth. 

“Mother says it’s not smart for me to ‘show all my cards’, but father says it’s a good quality to have.” 

“Both of them are very wise,” Duncan stood, walking over to a table piled with various weapons. He plucked a dagger and a shortsword and gripped them as an expert. He tested their balance, and found the dagger to be less than satisfactory and traded it for another. Elissa unsheathed her sword and dagger and stood at the ready. 

 

 

Merrill crouched and traced her fingers along the carved stone. Lyna leaned on her bow, resting her head on the back of her hands. 

“They remind me of the _ vallaslin _ ,” she muttered as Merrill stood again. The design in the rock curved and branched off into many branches, like Lyna’s own tattoos. 

“It’s probably a piece of some place dedicated to Mythal,” Merrill looked back at Lyna, her eyes tracing the vallaslin. Lyna had gotten the All-Mother blood writing because Mythal is The Protector. And as a hunter, she protected her clan. It was rather unusual for a hunter to choose a god that is usually reserved for Keepers and Firsts, but Keeper Marethari allowed it. Merrill’s own vallaslin was that of Elgar’nan, the All-Father.

“Well, whatever it was, it certainly isn’t it now,” Lyna grumbled.

“Cheer up, Mahariel,” Merrill beamed, “Keeper would like to know what we found.”

“Yeah. What exactly have we found?” Lyna strapped her bow to her back. Merrill paused.

“I-” she started, completely unsure, “I don’t really know.”

“Fantastic,” Lyna’s sarcasm flew over Merrill’s head, as it usually did.

They returned to camp not long after the noon day meal. Children huddled around the Hahren as he taught them about the Fall of the Dales. Master Ilen tended to his forge, and most of the hunters were nowhere in sight. Lyna and Merrill waited patiently for Keeper Marethari to finish speaking with Maren, the Halla keeper. Marethari looked very young for her age, and she showed much care for every member of her clan. 

“Merrill, Mahariel,” she addressed them, “Find anything useful?” Lyna shrugged as Merrill tried to gather her words. 

“There wasn’t much when we got there, but what was there seemed to have the same designs as Mahariel’s vallaslin.” 

“Interesting,” Marethari idly stroked her chin in thought, “Any buildings?” The young elves shook their heads. A flicker of disappointment flashed across the keeper’s face. 

“Go help around the camp, Mahariel. Merrill, come with me.” Lyna bowed her head and jogged to the Halla pen. Maren was sitting, balanced on the makeshift fence, worry making a knot in her brow. 

“Maren.”

“Mahariel,” Maren replied, distracted.

“Something troubling?”

“Nothing nature can’t handle. One of the Halla is heavy with calf, and I worry for their health.”

Lyna nodded, “I see.” She leaned against the wood, and stared at the herd of graceful halla, their antlers sparkling in the sun. Her thoughts trailed to Tamlen and his wellbeing. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Maren smirk.

“What’s so funny?”

“You always get the same look on your face whenever you think of a certain someone.” Maren giggled. Lyna gave her a half smile.

“Not like there’s anyone in the clan who doesn’t know by now. We hardly have the privilege of much privacy here.”

“That’s the truth,” Maren sighed, hopping down and landing softly. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cousland Origins (kinda) finishes up.

Elissa’s various bruises didn’t bother her much unless she paid attention to them. They did itch like mad though. Her father noticed her fidgeting over supper. 

“Something the matter, pup?” He asked, placing his fork down on the table.

“Nothing,” Elissa lied, her eyes flickered to Duncan, who was focused on his meal. 

“Like I’ll believe that,” he whispered, gently prodding her foot with his. Elissa smiled, despite herself. 

“Grey Warden Duncan gave me a thorough thrashing this afternoon, is all,” she finally conceded. 

“I hope you learned your lesson then,” Bryce laughed. She noticed her mother give a small smile. Fergus chuckled when his son asked what ‘thrashing’ meant. 

“It means that your aunt got her arse kicked.”

“Fergus!” his wife, Oriana scowled at his language. Bryce turned back to Elissa, changing the subject.

“Duncan says that Ser Gilmore is a fine candidate for being a Grey Warden,” She noticed Howe slightly twitch at the Grey Warden’s name. 

“Is that so?” Eleanor inquired, turning to Duncan. He nodded.

“And I might also say that your daughter would be a fine candidate as well, Teyrn Cousland,” Elissa’s heart skipped a beat. She had impressed him? Bryce cut her off before she could say anything.

“No. I won’t have my daughter fighting in this war.” 

“Neither will I,” Eleanor chimed in. Duncan looked slightly disappointed. 

“But Father,” Elissa said, quietly, afraid of being abashed, “Didn’t you say that this could be a true Blight? That is a war for everyone?” Elissaa continued before she could be interrupted, “And I think that I could really make a difference as a Grey Warden.” Bryce shook his head.

“I need you here to protect your mother, Oriana and Oren,” He said, the matter settled. 

At least for him.

Over the rest of dinner, the idea of Elissa being a fabled Grey Warden swam through her thoughts. She was suddenly pulled from them when Fergus was beginning to say his goodbyes. Howe had long since returned to his quarters, as did Duncan.

“I wish I could come with you,” she whispered in his ear as they hugged. 

“Maybe next time,” He joked, releasing her. Oren perked up at his father.

“Father, will you bring me back a sward?” Elissa saw Oriana pinch the bridge of her nose. 

“It’s _ sword  _ Oren,” Fergus laughed, picking him up, “Of course I’ll bring one back, you’ll see one soon enough.” The boy beamed at the thought of a present. Fergus set him back down and rubbed Pickles’ head. 

“Let’s say a prayer,” Oriana said, getting a firm grip on her husband’s hand as she lowered her head, “Maker, please watch over our husbands, sons, and fathers as they head into battle,”

“And bring us some good wenches while you’re at it,” Fergus jested, Oriana and Eleanor gave him a look as Bryce and Elissa giggled, “For the men, of course.” 

“What’s a wench? Is it the stick that you pull to get a bucket out of a well?”

“No Oren,” Bryce answered, “A wench is a woman who serves ale.”

“Or drinks a lot of ale,” Elissa added, in a matter of fact tone. Oriana sighed as her mother pursed her lips in disgust.

“Maker! It’s like living with a bunch of little boys!” she grumbled as Fergus gave her another final hug. He then kissed his wife and child, as he headed out into the courtyard, leading his men away from the castle. 

“Off to bed with you all,” Eleanor chided, she then reminded her husband, “Arl Howe’s men will be here in the morning, yes?” Bryce nodded and told her he was going to visit some more with Howe before he joined her in their room. 

Elissa hugged a tearful Oriana before heading to her own chambers. She stripped off her dress and cuddled with Pickles in her under clothes before sleep finally took her. 

~*~

She awoke suddenly to her hound growling at the door. 

“Pickles?” Elissa rubbed the sleep from her eyes, “What it is, girl?” The growling never ceased. Growing uneasy, she leaned over and grabbed the dagger on her bedside table. The door then burst open as a servant ran in. She screamed as an arrow found it way through the man’s neck, spurting blood everywhere. Pickles ran out into the hall and attacked whoever killed the servant. Elissa jumped out of bed, tentatively stepping around the body and the pooling blood. Quickly pulling on a tunic and trousers, she joined the fight with her mabari. Pickles had done most of the work already, but Elissa parried his sword to the left and ran the man through. 

Panting, she held onto Pickles’ collar, preventing the hound from moving ahead through the castle. The murderer's armor didn’t have the Cousland arms on it. Elissa picked up the sword he had dropped as another door opened. 

Much to her relief, it was her mother. Eleanor, dressed in her night robes, clung to the bow in her hand. 

“Do you know where your father is? He never came to bed,” she asked hastily. 

“No,” She struggled to keep Pickles still, “But this man here might have answered your question.” Elissa gestured to the body on the floor. Her mother gasped, and leaned forward to inspect his armor. 

“That,” she whispered, shocked, “That is Howe’s coat of arms.” Anger filled Elissa as she ran back to her room and quickly pulled on her leather armor, Pickles at her heels.  _ Howe! The snake! _

“I can’t believe it, the bastard,” she muttered, “We have to check on Oriana and Oren!” she called back to her mother, who had quickly recovered from her shock. Elissa left many straps untied for the sake of speed. She and her mother ran to Fergus’s chambers, sounds of battle echoing through the halls. When they reached the door leading to where Oren and Oriana were, the lock was damaged. Elissa held her breath as she slowly opened the door. 

Laying in a pool of their own blood, Oriana lying protectively over her son. Eleanor gasp in terror and fell to her knees beside their bodies. Elissa numbly stared at her sister in law and nephew. 

“What monsters would do this?” her mother cried, cradling Oren’s head in her lap, blood staining her nightdress. 

“Howe will pay for this,” Elissa gritted her teeth, turning on her heel out of the chamber. Her mother soon followed, a blaze of hatred in her eyes. She had never seen her mother look this way before. It was altogether frightening, but it seemed to also fuel Elissa’s own need for vengeance. They ran to the great hall, where Ser Gilmore intercepted them. 

“Your Grace!” He yelled, abandoning the barricade against the main door. Blood was spattered across his armor and face, sweat gleamed on his skin. 

“Has my father been through here?” Elissa demanded, over the ever pounding sound behind the door. 

“Last I saw the Teryn, he was near the servants quarters,” He said grimly. 

“Hold them as long as you can, Gilmore,” Eleanor said, “There’s a secret passage near the servants quarters, that’s where Bryce must be waiting for us.” Gilmore nodded and returned to his task. Elissa and the Teryna raced to the servants area of the castle, avoiding encounters with the enemy as much as possible. Her mother burst through the door and gasped. Eleanor knelt beside her pale husband as Elissa stared in shock. He groaned, much to their relief. 

“Darling?” Eleanor gently patted her husband’s face. 

“My love,” he muttered, caressing her cheek. 

“We’ve got to get out of here,” Elissa whimpered, “Can- can you stand father?” The Teryn shook his head. The door behind them creaked open and Elissa unsheathed her sword. 

The Grey Warden slipped in, his expression grim. 

“Duncan,” Bryce gasped, a smile twitching at his chapped lips. 

“My lord,” he knelt beside him and saw a grievous wound in his side. 

“Take my family out of here,” he pleaded. Elissa and Eleanor sparked with indignation. 

“There’s no way I’m leaving you, father!” “You think I’m going to abandon you? Think again!” 

Duncan nodded at the Teryn and turned to the teryna. 

“My lady, if you stay, you will both die.” 

“Then so be it,” Eleanor kissed her husband’s forehead. 

“I’m not leaving.” Elissa stood behind her mother and crossed her arms. 

“Pup, for once in your life, obey me,” Bryce coughed, “The Cousland line must continue. There could already be assassins after Fergus.” 

Her lips thinned at Duncan stood. 

“You’re going to be coming with me to Ostagar.” he said with authority, “You were more than eager to join me earlier.”

“Yeah, well, that’s changed since my family is dying and betrayed!” Elissa fumed, clenching her fists, “I’m not leaving.”

“You can find revenge on Howe later,” the Grey Warden said, extending his hand out to her, “There is little time. The soldiers are on their way. When I pasted the great hall, most of your guards had already perished.” She faltered at his words. 

“Maker, this isn’t happening,” Elissa whispered, running her fingers through her hair and getting a firm grip on the silent mabari. 

“It is happening, and we must go.” Duncan looked back down at the teryna, “Last chance, my lady, to escape.” 

“I will make sure no one has a chance to follow you,” Eleanor stood, picking up her bow. 

“Mother, please,” Elissa begged, taking hold of her mother’s hand.

“Avenge us, darling,” she whispered, placing a slow kiss on her daughter’s head. Pickles licked both of her master’s parents before going ahead in the dark.

“I love you,” the girl sobbed as Duncan dragged her to the secret passage. As the door closed behind her, both of her parents looked away from her, and ahead to their deaths. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More Dalish Origin, and all sorts of fun

The fire cracked between Duncan and the silent pariah. Elissa absentmindedly scratched Pickles’ head. Her eyes long since dried of their tears, now only emptiness remained.   
“We could have saved them,” she murmured into the mabari’s fur. Her eyelids swollen and heavy. The burning castle would forever haunt her dreams.   
“It would have been impossible to save your father,” Duncan said, turning a rabbit on a spit, “He had already lost too much blood and moving him would have killed him faster.” Elissa avoided eye contact with the Grey Warden.   
“What now?”  
“We go to Ostagar. It’s on the edge of the Korcari Wilds.”   
“I know where it is,” she grumbled, “I’m not uneducated.”  
“We may find your brother there, if Howe’s men haven’t gotten to him yet.” Elissa perked up a little at the thought of Fergus, but it was quickly replaced with images of Oriana and her nephew in a pool of their own blood. She rubbed her eyes to be rid of the tears.  
“Will these memories ever go away?”   
“In time they will fade, but never fully heal.”  
“Am I going to be a Grey Warden?”  
“Yes. In the next town, I’ll be sending word to my fellow wardens in Ostagar that we are on our way.”  
Elissa nodded slowly and laid back on her bedroll that was pilfered from an unsuspecting cart on the road. Pickles curled up beside her, keeping her warm.   
“Can you tell me about the Wardens?”  
“You’ll eventually meet them all. At least all the ones here in Ferelden.”   
“No, I mean their history. History lessons always put me to sleep,” she joked, not knowing how to do anything else at the moment. Elissa knew that if she stopped talking, or if he stopped talking her thoughts would trail back and she’d start crying again. She heard Duncan chuckle lightly.   
“If I’m going to relay history, I’d prefer you to be awake so you can actually learn from it.”  
“What’s there to learn? A few old guys start a fight, war never changes, a special lady or grey wardens swoop in to save everyone, and pow,” Elissa made a mini explosion with her hand, “Problem solved until some old guys start the same fight.” She noticed Duncan try to hide a smile.  
“History is never that simple,” he said, clasping his hands in his lap. 

 

The human pushed through the brush, fear gripping his heart. Tamlen drew his arrow and pulled it to his cheek as the shemlen stumbled before him. Two more joined him, shock plastered on their faces.   
Lyna came up beside him and readied her bow.   
“Bandits?” She asked, eyeing the shems with disgust.  
“No! Please don’t hurt us!” one cried, “We’re no bandits, we were just exploring a ruin when we ran into trouble.”  
“Ah,” Tamlen said, his voice cold, “So you’re grave robbers instead, is that it?” The humans pleaded with the hunters to let them go. Lyna stood closer to her clanmate.  
“Should we let them go?” he whispered to her, gaze still trained on the trespassers. Lyna pursed her lips in thought.  
“May as well let them go. Looks like they’ve had a good scare. Enough to not come around here again.” Lyna lowered her bow.   
“Never thought I’d see the day that you’d let shemlens go,” Tamlen teased. Lyna looked at him pointedly.  
“And be stuck in camp forever? No thank you.” She turned to the cowering humans, “Go, and never come around here again.” They thanked her for her mercy and scurried away like frightened rabbits.   
Tamlen patted her on her rump tenderly. She swatted his hand away with a coy smile.   
“Anyway, as I was asking before we were rudely interrupted,” He sat down on a tree root, “Why are you out here with me? Weren’t you supposed to be helping Master Ilen?”   
“I can’t take it anymore,” Lyna grumbled, folding her arms as she stood between his legs, “It’s pretty obvious I’ve learned my lesson, I don’t understand why Keeper won’t let me leave without sneaking away like this.” She leaned over and gently tapped her forehead against his in frustration. Tamlen chuckled and wrapped his arms around her waist.   
“To get your mind off of it, do you wanna go check out the ruin those shems were running from?” Lyna shrugged.  
“Wouldn’t they have been running away from whatever was there for a reason?”  
“Sure, but what if we find something amazing and bring it back to the clan?”   
“I don’t know, I’m already in trouble as it is for coming with you,” Lyna smiled, and Tamlen knew he had won the debate. He stood, and took up her hand in his.   
“Yes yes, I know I bring you nothing but trouble, but you’re still here,” he laughed, leading them through the bushes and around trees, following the trampled path the humans left.   
“I must have a problem with my head, because I keep following you, even though it always leads to trouble.” Lyna shook her head, “Everytime!” 

 

The trail led them to an ominous cave, overgrown and unstable. The wind was cold and made goosebumps show up on Lyna’s skin.   
“Now that I see it, my curiosity is peaked, but my sense of danger is too,” Lyna’s grip on Tamlen’s hand tightened as they proceeded into the ruin. Tamlen nodded, a knot in his brow as he unsheathed a dagger from his belt. Lyna, on the other hand, drew her bow.   
“This place has an interesting,” he paused, looking around him at the architecture, “presence seems to be the word I’m looking for. The Veil is probably really thin here.” She felt it too, and the chill seeped into the marrow of her bones and tingling on her skin.  
“Do you want to go back and return with more hunters and Keeper?” she whispered, noticing skeletons and corpses that were ages old in corners covered in large webs.   
“And what if there’s nothing here to look for, wasting everyone’s time?” he countered with a small nudge to her hip, “Come on, I've never known you to cower away from adventure.” Lyna smiled at him.  
“if this is what you call Adventure I'm not sure if I want to join you. This place,” she shivered, “feels wrong.” 

The two lovers turned a corner and was confronted by a statue, only inches taller than Tamlen.   
“It's a statue of Falon'Din,” she whispered, reaching out to stroke the wings, “or something every similar.”   
“I've never heard of elves living underground,” Tamlen said, circling the ancient statue, “Did they live with the dwarves after the fall of the Dales or Arlathan?” Lyna tugged Tamlen along the corridor.  
“We can show Keeper later, I'm sure she'll know something about it. She always does.”  
Deeper into the ruin they went, the darker it became. They came to an intersection littered with old corpses. Lyna nudged one with her foot tentatively. Tamlen drew her attention to a door that seemed in good condition.  
“Do you think-,” he paused, then whispered, “Did you hear that?”   
A clink of rusty chain mail and a groan sounded behind them. Lyna turned quickly and notched an arrow. The corpses were coming to life! She released her arrow. Can you kill what's already dead? She thought, pulling back another arrow as Tamlen leaped into the fray. The battle was over in seconds, but both hunters were still very shaken.  
“They- they came back to life!” Tamlen panted.  
“Are you hurt?” Lyna asked, caressing his cheek tenderly. He shook his head.  
“No undead laid a scratch on me, love,” he took her hand in his own, “Though it looks like spirits possessed them. Which means that the Veil is very weak here. Like on battlefields and the Brecilian forest.” his brow furrowed as he looked around.   
“Do you think that a big battle happened here ages ago?” she inquired.  
“Definitely, but it makes me wonder what really happened here and why.” Tamlen reached for the door’s handle and, with effort, pulled it open.   
The room was empty save for a beautiful mirror with golden framing. Lyna felt entranced by its beauty.   
“It's so,” she whispered, her fingers curling around Tamlen’s, “pretty.” The mirror's surface seemed to move, filled with dark mist.   
“Very,” he agreed. They slowly walked up the raised platform to where the mirror stood. Something tugged at the back of Lyna's mind, but she ignored it. Tamlen stopped inches before the curiosity. There was no reflection, just swirling mists. He then froze.  
“Did you see that?” he hushed, stiffer than a board.  
“See what-”  
“There it is again!” he gasped. Lyna tugged on his sleeve.  
“Vhenan,” she said, fear creeping into her voice, “get away from it.”  
“I just want to know what that was,” Tamlen reached out and touched it. Rippling waves reacted to his touch.  
“I- I see a.. city,” he said, “Underground?” Lyna bit her lip and switched her gaze from the mirror to Tamlen.   
“And, a great blackness.” he suddenly paled. His breath caught in his throat.  
“Tamlen?” Lyna stressed, getting a better grip on his elbow and shoulder.   
“It, it saw me!” he cried, his eyes wide and glassy, “I can't look away!” Lyna was about to shove him away from the mirror, but an unseen force violently pushed her into the air, away from Tamlen. The mirror glowed white, blindingly so. Then, Lyna's head hit the ground with a loud crack, and all became darkness.

 

Lyna's sight shifted from seeing nothing, to blurred surroundings. Her stomach felt sick, and her head hurt terribly. She bounced between consciousness and unconsciousness for who knows how long. A face lit up the darkness. A man?  
“I'm so sorry,” echoed through her head. Strong hands gripped her small frame. Pain seized her whole body, and Lyna passed out again.

 

Elissa paced uncomfortably. She'd never met Dalish Elves before, but she'd heard certain.. stories. All the elves gave her looks of disgust and, since she all but towered over them, fear. Duncan seemed to be acquaintances with their leader, but that provided her little comfort. The elves were accommodating but cold.  
They had found the nearly dead elf by a cave. Duncan had forbidden her from going in there, and she could see why. The she-elf’s condition had only gotten worse before it got mildly better. Even in the rare times she woke up to eat and drink, she was all but catatonic. Her skin turned unnaturally pale, and her eye sockets began to be sunken in, and dark like she'd been in a fist fight with a bronto. Elissa found herself worrying deeply for this woman whom she'd never truly met. Elissa had also heard that another elf of their clan was missing. The two cases were more than likely connected.   
Elissa found herself sitting outside of the caravan the woman was in quite often. She didn't expect her to come out so soon, much less with armor on.   
Elissa stood, surprised. The blonde elf glared at her with equal shock.   
“What the hell is a shemlen doing sitting outside my aravel?” she demanded, not very threatening, as she looked incredibly sick, “And where is Tamlen!” she all but shrieked the last question. Many other Dalish rushed to her side, either to help her or to ask questions. Elissa slipped away from the group that was forming to go grab Duncan. The First, she remembered her name was Merril, a skittish little thing, ran past her. Elissa quickly grabbed her elbow, and asked her to go tell her Keeper that the woman had woken up. Merril muttered something about humans, and ran off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy that I've gotten a few kudos! I honestly didn't think this was even get noticed by anyone :) Thanks ya'll!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrapping up Dalish Origin! Soon we'll be to Ostagar

The elven woman was looking paler and sicker by the second. Elissa stood on the outskirts of the conversation turned arguement, not paying much attention to what they were saying. Duncan had long ago left for the cave to do more investigating on what happened to the two hunters. The elven woman, she believed her name to be Mahariel, was getting more and more agitated as the discussion went on. 

“Tamlen is still alive, I can feel it!” she shrieked, looking ready to tear someone apart. 

“If he is in the same condition you were in, then without my magic to help, he would certainly be dead,” the Keeper cooed, her eyes looked very old and tired, while Mahariel’s were filled with fire and tears. 

“I want to go back to the cave,” Mahariel demanded, her fists clenched until her knuckles were white. 

“In your condition?” Elissa stated, hands on her hips. The elf’s razor sharp eyes turned on her. 

“What would a shem know?” she spat, coming closer to her. 

“You have a slight tremor in your hands, and it's obvious that your knees are weak,” Elissa said factually, “ not to mention your looking more sickly the longer you do anything. So, no, I don’t think you should be going anywhere anytime soon.” Before Mahariel could respond, the Keeper cut her off.

“Mahariel, you may go back to the cave to double check for Tamlen, however,” The elf’s lips thinned as the condition was said, “You will have to take Merril and the Warden recruit with you.”

“The name is Elissa Cousland. And not only me, but my hound as well,” she added to the Keeper. The old woman simply nodded and walked away, the discussion ended. Mahariel fumed and stormed into her caravan. Elissa heard some rustling and what sounded like curses before she emerged with her armor and weapons ready. 

Avoiding eye contact with her, the elf marched through the camp to where Merril stood, watching the halla. 

“Keeper told me the plan,” she murmured before Mahariel could open her mouth, “But I have to say I don’t much like the idea of traveling, even a short distance, with a shemlen.” 

_ These elves and their damn prejudices.  _

“You have nothing to fear from me,” Elissa said, her eyebrows furrowing together, “Unless you plan something nefarious to harm me.” Merril shook her head.

“Nothing of the sort.” 

“I don’t want anyone with me,” grumped Mahariel, turning to leave. Another elf jogged up to the group, he was taller than most elves and had light hair. He too had those strange tattoos on his face, and he seemed already prepared for travel.

“If you’re going after Tamlen, then I’m coming too.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” Mahariel snapped, “I didn’t ask for anyone’s help.”

“Damn it, Mahariel,” the man said, grabbing her shoulders before she would brush past him, leaning down to her eye level, forcing eye contact, “Tamlen is important to me too, and by the Creators, I may not have loved him like you did, but he was still like a brother to me.” 

“Do you have Keeper’s permission, Fenarel?” Merril asked, folding her arms. 

“I won’t lie to you Merril, I don’t.” Fenarel let go of the trembling woman. Elissa wasn’t sure if it was from rage or sorrow, she kept her face hidden from everyone else. However, from her body language she looked very distressed.

“In this case, wouldn’t it be more the merrier?” Elissa put in, unsure of the way the Dalish did these things. 

Merril sighed, “I suppose it would be alright. Just don’t get sick, my magic can only help so much.” Fenarel nodded. 

Lyna led them to the cave, a cold wind whispering from it’s entrance. 

“This is the place,” she said, hand on her hip, as if out of breath. She looked about ready to fall over, but her face was determined as she led the group underground. Merrill strayed a few times, examining the architecture. Each time, the crease in Lyna’s brow intensified at the delay. 

Entering another part of the ruin, darkspawn bodies were littered everywhere. 

“Were these here when you and Tamlen were-?” Fenarel asked, poking a corpse with the end of his bow.

“No, these are fresh,” Lyna bent, examining a cut up genlock. 

“Could have been Duncan,” Elissa muttered, kicking aside a hurlock, who’s guts spilled out. 

“Scratch that, it was definitely Duncan,” She finished. They continued on through the doorway leading deeper in. The room they entered was relatively small, but with a large, mirror sort of object standing in the exact middle. Elissa’s eye hurt if she stared at it too long, and it seemed to be whispering incoherently.

“This is where I last saw Tamlen,” Lyna’s jaw was clenched, “Don’t touch the mirror, no matter what you think you see.” Elissa got a firm grip on Pickles’ collar, making sure she doesn’t touch it on a whim. 

“Where could Duncan be?” Elissa muttered to herself, keeping an eye on the door behind them.

“I am here,” a resonant voice said, as Duncan circled from behind the mirror. Merril jumped, placing a hand on her staff and her chest in fright. 

“Creators, Grey Warden,” Fenarel uttered, a firm grip on his sword. Duncan didn’t pay him much heed as he finished his round about inspection. 

“Have you seen any trace of Tamlen?” Mahariel demanded, leaning on Merril now, whose eyes were large as saucers now that she was closer to.. Whatever the mirror actually was. 

“I have not,” he simply stated, gaze fixed on the glass. Lyna’s breath shallowed as color flowed to her cheeks.

“You weren’t even looking!” She yelled, making echoes that hurt Elissa’s ears. 

“Shut up, will you? I don’t want the ceiling to crumble down on us,” Elissa snapped. Duncan gave her a side look that cowed her a little, but not by much. Mahariel huffed in anger, sitting down on the steps before the looking glass. 

“What do you think this is?” Merril reached out to touch the gold frame, but Duncan held her back, nearly behind him. 

“Do not touch it,” he all but growled, “It’s tainted with the Blight.” 

“ _ Fenedhis _ ,” Fenarel cursed, “How can you tell?”

“Being a Grey Warden, I can sense the Blight in darkspawn. This is no different.” 

“Wait,” Lyna turned around, still sitting, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Elissa looked between the two, her knuckles starting to ache from gripping Pickles’ collar so tightly. 

“You are infected with the Blight,” Duncan looked down at her, “Thankfully, your Keeper knew some old magic to help slow it’s overtake of you, but it’s not completely gone, obviously..” 

“So that’s it then?” Mahariel slumped forward, over her knees, “Tamlen and I are blighted and so we’re just going to die slowly and painfully?” 

“If Tamlen isn’t dead already,” Merril whispered, her frown increasing as she stared at the mirror, to which a disgruntled Lyna mumbled, “He isn’t dead.”

Duncan turned back to the glass with no reflection. 

“This mirror is Tevinter in origin. It was used for communication. Over time, most of them just break and become tainted,” Elissa told Pickles to sit while she went to stand beside him.

“It’s not Tevinter,” Merril stated, getting as close as she dare to it, “It’s actually Elvhen.” All eyes stared at her, confused.

“At the last  _ Arlathvhen _ , one of the clans had a book about old magic objects called _ Eluvian _ ,” Merril licked her lips quickly before continuing, “None of the Keepers or Firsts could really read what the texts said, but we know pieces of it. I actually think this is one of them. I have no idea what they do, but it’s not Tevinter.” She practically spat out the nation’s name, like it was vile poison on her tongue. 

“No matter it’s origins,” Elissa said, “Tamlen’s touch must have released the blight into your hunters.”

“So it must be destroyed,” Duncan unsheathed his sword.

“I can’t let you do that,” Merril, tight lipped and determined, tried her best to stand between the eluvian and Duncan, without touching the mirror. 

“I know you want to preserve our heritage Merril, but,” Mahariel’s voice was weak, “But if it’s not eliminated, then what happened to me and Tamlen, will happen to others.” Merril seemed to falter a bit at her words. 

“But,” she whispered, her face contorted and distraught, “It’s a piece of our past and we have so little of it.”   
“I know, First,” Duncan said, slowly moving her aside, “But we cannot risk it. Your Keeper will understand.” 

He swung his sword down on the glass, it shattered at his assault, and fell to pieces. Distant whispers haunted the chamber for a few moments, then dissipated. 

“It is done,” Duncan sheathed his sword, bending down to put an arm under Mahariel’s shoulder, “We must return to your Keeper to discuss your cure.”

“Cure?” was simultaneously asked as they practically dragged Lyna out of the ruin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I restarted my dalish origin after finishing Inquisition, and Duncan said that the eluvian was Tevinter, I got so heated I had to put down my controller and step outside...
> 
> So in this AU I knew I just had to shem shame, I just HAD to! And, as much as Dorian probably wouldn't enjoy it, I love doing the "It's actually Elvhen, not Tevinter" bid as often as I can.   
> ELVHEN GLORY


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finishing up Dalish Origin. Ostagar and Alibear in the future!
> 
>  
> 
> Sorry, I haven't posted in many moons, college is great but time-consuming!

“So, about this cure,” Elissa prodded at Duncan. Their pace was slow through the woods, Lyna leaning heavily on Fenarel and Merrill behind the two humans. 

“I will not elaborate on it further. I must speak with the Keeper before anything else happens,” he said grimly, jaw set. Elissa felt a little miffed at being left out of some sort of loop but was distracted by Pickles running ahead of them at a small trot.

“Slow down, Pickles,” She grumbled, wishing she had some sort of leash for the hound, but the dog would most likely tear it to pieces anyway.    


 

The Keeper’s gaze lifted as the group approached, her steely eyes fixed first on Lyna’s condition, then to Duncan.

“I didn’t expect you back so soon, Duncan,” she said, pulling a short stool over, waving her hand for Fenarel and Merrill to set Lyna down. 

“Neither did I, Keeper.”

“Dare I ask of Tamlen?” Marethari placed a tender hand on Lyna’s slim shoulder. The elf shook her head, staring at the ground.

“I see,” the Keeper whispered, thick sorrow in her voice. She turned to Merrill, “Merrill, what of the mirror?” 

“I can answer that, Keeper,” Duncan cut in, “It was tainted with the blight, and we destroyed it.” 

“Could nothing be recovered?” Elissa looked down at the Keeper’s worn hands. Her knuckles were white, but her tone was even.

“I am afraid not,” Duncan said, his hands behind his back, “And I must speak with you privately, Keeper.”

“Very well,” Keeper turned to her First, “Merrill, will you go warn the hunters? If there are darkspawn about, I want them prepared.”

“Ma nuvenin, Keeper,” Merrill scurried away through the camp.

“And Fenarel, will you go tell Hahren Pavel what has occurred? He must now prepare a service for the dead,” Her elven eyes were sad as the hunter went to do as she wished.

“Da’len,” The Keeper addressed Lyna now, “Allow me some time to discuss your cure with Duncan, for now, go rest in your aravel. We will send the Warden Recruit with you, and she will get you when we’re through.”

“Of course, Keeper,” Lyna somehow managed to get out. Attempting to stand, her knees gave out beneath her. However, Elissa was soon at her side and lifting her up. Pickles gave a small huff and trailed behind the pair. 

“Which wagon is yours?” Elissa cooed, one arm around the elf’s shoulder, the other around her waist. 

“It’s an aravel,” Mahariel practically growled, “And it’s this one.” Elissa ignored the broods and helped her into her cot. 

“You really should eat more,” Elissa scolded, sitting on the edge of the makeshift bed, “You weigh nothing.”

“Makes sense, after being dead for three days,” Lyna used the heels of her hands to rub her eyes, however, a few rogue tears slipped through, “Ma ghilana mir dir’an,” she added in a whisper. 

“What does that mean?” Elissa inquired, her voice low. Mahariel took a shuddering breath. 

“It means, ‘Guide me to death’. I’m sure I’ll die before I can get this so-called cure.”

“Don’t say that,” whispered Elissa, readjusting her position so she was leaning against a wall opposite of the elf, “You’re probably one of the strongest people I’ve met. And my mother was a pirate, so I’d know.” 

“Tamlen is stronger than me,” Lyna grit her teeth, “He isn’t dead.”

 

Duncan emerged from the aravel and approached Elissa, who was giving Pickles scritches. 

“Go get Mahariel, I think the Keeper and I have come to an agreement.”

“Agreement?” Elissa asked, standing up and brushing herself off. The look Duncan gave her told her that she wasn’t going to find out. At least not yet.  Helping Lyna walk the distance to the Keeper’s aravel was slow going, but Lyna got there in what seemed like one piece.  Setting her down on a stool, Elissa stepped back and let the elf settle herself.

"Let’s hear about this cure, hahren,” Lyna groaned, biting her cheek from the sudden pang of pain in her abdomen.

Duncan’s face became grim. 

"Your keeper and I have come to an arrangement that concerns you. My order is in need of recruits. The Wardens have the way of your cure."

"What exactly are you saying," Lyna hissed, a frown creasing her brow. 

"My order is in need of help. You are in need of a cure. When we leave, I hope you would join us."

Elissa stood, mildly shocked.

"And leave her family and friends behind?" she asked, unfolding her arms.

"So becoming a grey warden will cure the blight in me? That doesn't make any sense."

"It really doesn't," Elissa added, her gaze switching rapidly between Duncan and Lyna.

"You would make an excellent Grey Warden," Duncan put in.

"We would not send you away, but there is more at stake," Keeper Marethari said, her eyes full of sorrow. 

"If I join you," Lyna whispered, "Will I ever see my clan again?"

"We do not know. But we could not watch you suffer. The blight is coursing through you and will kill you. The Wardens can prevent that." Marethari placed her hand on Lyna's shoulders. 

"This is not simply charity on my part. I would not offer if I did not think you had the making of being a Grey Warden." Lyna looked up at the old veteran as he continued, "Let me be clear. You will likely never return here. We go to fight darkspawn, a battle that will take us far from your clan. But we need you, and others like you."

Elissa simply watched. She could almost see the cogs turning in Mahariel’s head. 

"The Grey Wardens offer you a way to survive," the Keeper said faintly.

"I know," Lyna said softly, "but why would the Wardens need me?"

Elissa stepped forward, surprised they hadn't heard of the Blight yet, "a Blight is coming from the south, the darkspawn are making a huge horde, and they mean business. And not the good kind."

Lyna looked up at her. In the light, Elissa could clearly see now just how ill the elf really was. The circles under her eyes had grown darker, and her skin more pallor. 

"The Dalish once agreed to the Wardens to help them in times of need. It breaks my heart to send you away," Keeper said, "but it would be so much worse to watch you die slowly to this sickness. This is your duty and your salvation.

"I cannot express my sorrow at sending one of our daughters away from a clan that loves her. But if this is what the Creators intend for you, da’len, then meet it with your head held high." Keeper lifted Mahariel's chin, forcing eye contact, “No matter where you go, you are Dalish. Keepers of the lost lore, walkers of the lonely path." 

"We are the last of the Elvhenan, and never again shall we submit," Lyna said, a determination in her weak voice. 

"Never forget that, da’len." Keeper placed a kiss on Lyna's forehead as if bestowing a special blessing on her, pulling something from a pocket, "Take this ring, it is your heritage and will protect you in the darkness to come." 

Lyna stared at the ring, and slowly put in on her finger. Her head bowed, her hands on her knees, clutching her leggings with white knuckles.

"Ma serannas, Keeper."

 

Lyna leaned heavily on Elissa as they walked through the camp, saying her goodbyes. Poor Merrill had tears in her large eyes, but Lyna shed none. 

"Dareth shiral, I will pray that we meet again, Mahariel," Merrill said, pulling Lyna into a hug. Lyna patted her slim back a few times before breaking the embrace

"I will never forget you, Merrill. I'll hold our memories very close and dear to me." 

"Keeper says we must move north, into the Free Marches," Merrill wiped her nose with her wrist, "I'll look for you every day." Lyna nodded, leaving Merrill behind. 

Ashalle, her guardian, handed Lyna a small necklace, placing it around her neck. The pendant was finely carved, the wooden beads spanning the length of the necklace. Each bead depicted many animals: bears, foxes, deer, halla, all seemingly chasing each other around the necklace. 

"This was your mother's," Ashalle said, dabbing her eyes and nose with a delicate handkerchief, "I wanted to give it to you on your bonding day, but.. but," her lower lip quivered as Lyna pulled her in. 

"Ma serannas, I miss Tamlen too." _Who isn't dead_ , she thought, but didn't want to upset the old woman further.

"You two would have made fine children," she whispered, "It was always my hope that you two would... Well," she pulled away, placing both hands on Lyna's shoulders, "Your parents would be proud to see the woman you've become."

"I’d like to hope so," Lyna granted the old woman a small smile before saying goodbye. 

"Who was that?" Elissa asked as they walked away.

"She raised me when my parents had died," Lyna said curtly, not elaborating further. 

"Oh." Elissa didn't press her either. Lyna supposed the shemlen wasn't all bad. At least this one.

Fenarel gave her a fierce hug, nearly lifting her off the ground. All the clansmen, in turn, said their farewells to her. Giving the Keeper one last embrace, Lyna saw that Duncan had two horses ready to go. 

"We will have to walk. However, Mahariel, you will ride."

"Where did the horses come from?"

"A small village a few miles to the north, called Lothering." Elissa put in, helping Lyna onto the horse.

Lyna felt very unsafe on top of the beast. The saddle didn’t seem to fit her right.

"I've, ah, have never ridden a horse before. The Halla are our friends, not slaves like you humans use your horses."

Elissa laughed, however, there wasn't any real mirth, "They're not slaves, and we humans treat them very well." She and Duncan took the reins and led the horses away. Lyna kept looking back at the camp until it was out of sight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much talking! A lot of dialogue is totally lifted from the game (I'm terrible like that). I'd like to thank everyone who has left me kudos and comments, it brings me life! If anyone has any suggestions, I'd be happy to hear them :) 
> 
> I probably won't be able to write or post more until the semester is over, so toodles!

**Author's Note:**

> Whew! I hope you people enjoyed my weird writings. Please tell me if you would like to have more of this :)


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